Nisei: A Novel by J.J. White

Author:J.J. White
Format: epub

Robert laid the manuscript upside down on the hardwood floor. He had read the last few pages of the chapter over again incredulously. So his pop actually had an affair with Mrs. Brennan. “Way to go, Pop,” Robert said aloud, smiling.

He surveyed the empty whiskey bottle, then stared out the curtainless window. It was dark outside. How long had he been reading? It was like reading someone’s diary without permission. Robert felt guilty, but he also felt frustrated knowing he couldn’t ask his pop any of the many questions he had. The first one would be why his pop didn’t tell him any of this when he was a boy. Sure, not the sex part, but Pearl Harbor, the internment camp, the army. Pop had never talked about any of it. Was it because of his mom? Maybe she knew about Mrs. Brennan and his pop.

So, Mrs. Brennan, Paul’s mom, and Robert’s first crush, was Mary O’Connor, Pop’s first girlfriend. No problem nowadays, but Robert could imagine how the haoles felt about a Nisei dating a white girl in the forties.

He stood up, stretched, and powered up his cell phone. Ten p.m., too late to commit suicide. He’d do it first thing in the morning when the highway was still slick with dew. Right now, though, he needed another bottle. A drive to the liquor store would wake him up. He’d get a bottle of whiskey and maybe some chips and jerky to snack on while he continued to read the memoir. He needed to read it all. It was like a silent promise to his pop to read the whole thing, to feel proud of something before death.

It wouldn’t be published like his pop wanted but Pop’s fear that his regiment’s story wouldn’t be told was unfounded. The 442nd’s adventures and deeds were respected and renowned, especially in Hawaii. No, Robert didn’t need to have it published, but maybe he’d burn it so Mrs. Brennan wouldn’t be embarrassed. Maybe he would.

He left the lamp on and walked out to his rental car. He still felt the effects of the earlier whiskey. It was possible he might wreck the car and kill himself accidentally. That would be ironic. No, he’d drive carefully. He wanted to read the rest.

Robert flipped open the phone again. Thirteen voice messages, all from Marie. How many voice messages could the damn thing hold? He pushed the speed-dial button to call home. It rang twice before he hung up and powered it down.

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